My Bond
by Ash9
Summary: alt. fic for Series 4, ep. 5 My Father's Son- In the actual episode, Queen Annis was awfully accomodating. What if she were a bit harder to persuade? What if she were not so noble, and slightly more ambitious? Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** My Bond

**Rating:** T for whump

**Characters:** Merlin/Arthur/knights

No slash; multi-chapter

**Spoilers:** through Series 4, episode 5

An alternate direction for the episode "His Father's Son" What if Annis was not quite so noble? What if her suspicions must first be allayed?

**Disclaimer: **I am actually borrowing quite a bit of episode 5 here, using what the wonderful writers of Merlin have established as a jumping off point. I hope they don't mind me borrowing. I only mean to honor their work and not steal from it in any way.

* * *

><p>"Halt!"<p>

"I'm unarmed." The men closed in around Arthur. He kept his hands raised, his body still. "You know who I am. Take me to your queen." Queen Annis's men held the king at spear point for a moment longer, suspicious, before leading him away.

Merlin was beside himself. He'd seen the despair in Arthur's eyes earlier when he admitted what a horrid mistake he'd made in listening to Agravaine. There had been no way to make him feel better about it, though Merlin had given it his best shot. Maybe that's why he was still sleeping so lightly when Arthur crept by. But this—this was madness, to go to the enemy camp and offer himself up as…as _what?_

One day, Merlin told himself bitterly as he followed as close behind as he dared, one day the king will trust me and ask me to go with him. But for now, I have to spy, and I'll probably get caught. Arthur will be furious, and who knows what _they'll_ do to me. But he's in an enemy camp without his sword; he's helpless!

He followed the soldiers leading Arthur, skirting the edges of the tents and keeping to the shadows. As other patrols made their way around camp, Merlin was forced to slow down and take shelter wherever he could. Thankfully, he'd gotten better at creeping around since the days when he'd followed Morgana to the Darkling Woods and been captured for his trouble. He was slow, yes, but practically invisible.

Merlin arrived at the queen's tent unobserved and knelt by the doorflap. Magic burned in him furiously at the sight of Arthur held by two guards. If one of them so much as moved a weapon in his direction…

Arthur was speaking, in a bleak tone Merlin had rarely heard. "I'm ashamed of what I did. It was cowardly. It was unjust and I'm deeply sorry." Emotions warred inside Merlin. He was so moved by Arthur's courage, by his noble heart, but fear for his friend rose up like a hunted bird stirred from its nest.

The queen facing Arthur was beautiful, in a savage way. She wore a cape of furs over her long dress. Her hair was reddish, long and swept back from her face with a circlet denoting royalty. Though she was older, it had not dimmed her piercing gaze. She took in Arthur's contrition and threw it back in his face.

"_Sorry_ does not bring back my husband. _Sorry_ does not give my people back their king."

"I realize that. I know there's nothing I can do to repair that loss."

"Then what are you doing here, Arthur Pendragon?" She made his name sound trivial, meaningless, as though his actions had sundered his name from the honor and glory it had previously stood for. It must have goaded Arthur, yet he remained focused.

"I want to call off the battle."

There was a pause. "It's a little too late for that."

"I don't propose a truce, but an alternative. I invoke the right of single combat. Two champions, to settle this matter between them."

She looked intrigued. "And why should I grant you this favor?"

"There has been bloodshed enough already, your highness. Many hundreds of lives will be saved this way."

Annis nodded to her soldiers and the released Arthur's arms. She appeared to be considering the idea. "And your terms?"

"If my man wins, you must withdraw your army."

"And if mine is the victor?"

Arthur paused, collecting himself. "Half of all Camelot is yours."

That had cost him something. Merlin was waiting breathlessly to hear Annis' response when rough hands grabbed him. He barely had time to get his feet up under him before he was pushed into the tent and thrown roughly to the ground to kneel beside Arthur.

"Sorry about this," he said to his king as the man blazed a look of surprise in his direction.

"You know him?" Annis asked, anger giving her voice a new edge.

Arthur threw Merlin a look that said he might never make this up, no matter how many chores he did. "He's my servant. He must have followed me here. I—I knew nothing about it."

"Kill him," the queen said.

"Wait—please, let him go. He's just…a simple-minded fool."

Merlin looked up at the queen, trying to look simple. He knew he already looked foolish enough. Arthur was having to protect _him._

"That is…two favors you've asked of me this night, Arthur Pendragon." Arthur said nothing in return. The queen walked back over to her throne and sat, settling her furs around her sumptuously. Her gaze landed on Merlin, as if taking the measure of his worth, and then slid up to Arthur.

Though he was not really helpless, Merlin knew better than to allow his magic to be seen here. Only in greatest need and only in small ways could he bring his magic to bear on any situation. Surprising Arthur here and now would be only a few steps away from suicide. And it might get the King killed before he could do anything. And it might start a war. No. Merlin kept control of his magic and waited.

Annis finally spoke. "I remain unconvinced that you are a man of your word. You have done little that would persuade me otherwise."

"If you ask any man in Camelot they will tell you that my word is my bond."

"That may be so, but you are not in Camelot. Here, your word means very little. I might, however, accept another type of bond—your servant."

Arthur's face blanched. "No," he breathed, "The sin was mine alone and the punishment will be meted out between our champions. There is no need to keep Merlin hostage."

"I'm afraid I have no choice. His life is forfeit for spying on us. He should be put to death. By promising to deliver him to you tomorrow, should you keep your word, I am showing great leniency. You must realize this."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his face working. He said nothing.

"Also, I see in you apparent concern for your servant, that he might be harmed. I find this difficult to believe of one who so callously dispatched my husband. Is this feigned? Indeed, I feel moved to put that to the test before trusting that you are what you seem." She made a small gesture to her guards, who stepped forward to take Arthur's arms once again. Another gesture was given to the man holding Merlin.

Arthur's tense, "No!" was Merlin's first clue that this was not going to be good for him. The guard released him, only to grab Merlin's jacket at the shoulders and rip it back away from his body and halfway down his arms. Merlin only had time to realize that his arms were now trapped behind him in the fabric when he heard a small _snick_ next to his face.

The man had unsheathed a long, thin blade like an ice pick. It was far too close for—

Merlin sucked in a breath to scream, but found that no air could escape the pain spearing his left shoulder. He looked down to see the sharp blade penetrating, two inches of its length visible where it pierced through his shoulder. Agony clamped down harder and Merlin began panting as the blade was pulled out. Blood welled up and spilt down his arm. Arthur was yelling, held back by two—no three guards. Merlin's magic was begging to come to their rescue, but the warlock pressed it down hard, fighting its release, somewhere among the agony.

And then he was on the ground, slumping, nearly unconscious, trying to focus on what Queen Annis was saying.

"…life of a servant would hardly be enough blood to pay for the loss of a king. You have passed the test; the boy is dear to you, as all can see. Thus it is a perfect bond. Your champion will fight for you tomorrow, and until then, my guarantee against treachery is the life of your servant. A perfect solution."

Arthur shook his head, determined to try one last time. "Please. I beg of you, if you wish to take someone hostage, let it be me and I can send Merlin back with a message. He is trustworthy."

"Yet you called him a fool earlier. No, I think I have his true measure now. No fool could withstand pain so stoically. Fear not for your servant. His treatment shall be exactly what he deserves, no more or less. Announce your champion by noon tomorrow and your servant will be there, awaiting the contest. He will be released as soon as the winner is declared."

Arthur bowed his head. So Merlin would get what he deserves, no more or less. That could mean anything; Annis had already said Merlin's life was forfeit. _Why_ had the idiot followed him and messed up everything? Arthur took in a deep breath. Oh, no sense in ignoring it, he _knew_ why: Merlin was trying to protect Arthur, as always, without weapon and without thought for himself. Now he was going to pay for his foolishness dearly and there was nothing Arthur could do to stop it. "May I speak with him, your highness?"

"Of course."

The guards released Arthur. He moved quickly to Merlin's side, pausing as the other guard positioned his blade at Merlin's back. Arthur glared at him until the man pulled the blade back a comfortable distance. Arthur turned his attention on Merlin. The boy lay on his side, his face crumpled in pain. Thick blood was trickling out from between his fingers where he clutched his left shoulder. Arthur leaned him forward a bit to see that the hole in the back of his shoulder was somewhat larger. Blood was making a red stream down his back.

"Bandages, please!" he called out.

No one moved. Arthur gritted his teeth. Merlin's jacket was still pulled down low on his back, the sleeves interfering with his movement. Slowly, Arthur pulled Merlin's hand away from the wound and gently maneuvered the jacket off the left side of his body. Merlin gasped as he shifted; straightening his arm was agony. His breath went back to gasps and he closed his eyes.

"Sorry, Merlin."

Arthur pulled off his gloves hastily and untied Merlin's neckerchief. He ripped the boy's shirt open above the stab wound. "Can I have some bandages, please?" Again, no one moved. Arthur shook his head and ripped the red fabric into strips. He pressed a few as padding on each side of the wound to block the blood flow, then tied two around Merlin's shoulder to hold them in place. Finally, he took Merlin's belt off and used it as a sling to hold Merlin's left arm bent in close to his body. Arthur had once had a similar wound and knew what agony movement could be.

By this point, Merlin looked unconscious and his breathing was faint. Arthur wiped the blood off on his pants and took the opportunity to gently lift Merlin, sliding his jacket the rest of the way off. He bundled it up and placed it under Merlin's head. That looked slightly more comfortable. Arthur steeled himself.

"Merlin." He put a hand on his back, trying to wake him gently. Merlin's eyes fluttered open. "I have to leave you now." For a long moment, words deserted him. "I don't think the wound will bleed long. You must deal with the pain the best you can. I need you to be a warrior for me, Merlin," he said in a low voice. "Be brave. I will return for you tomorrow. Do you understand?"

Merlin's lips quirked upward and he blinked several times. "Not my first wound. And. Not a coward."

"I know that, Merlin. You're one of the bravest men I know. Even coming after me tonight…that was a brave thing to do, even if it was..." Arthur pulled Merlin's right hand up and gripped his forearm in a knight's salute. "But, you're going to be fine, and I promise…I will not leave you here."

Merlin's eyes cleared of pain and fear. Once again, Arthur saw that calm, focused gaze that always astounded him. "I know you will, Arthur." Strength flowed from one to the other as their gazes held and reassurances were given. Arthur would return; Merlin would still be here.

When Merlin's grip weakened, Arthur forced himself to let go. He placed his right hand on Merlin's head, letting the action speak all the words he couldn't. Then he forced himself to stand and face the queen again. "As my servant, he is under my protection. Can you swear that you will not harm him further?"

"I will swear no such thing. He is at my mercy, such as it is. Tomorrow, he will be there waiting for you. If you pass a restless night of worry and anxiety before then, then I will have returned to you a portion of the misery you inflicted upon me at the disappearance and death of my husband."

"It is as you say. I, as well as my servant, am at your mercy." Arthur inclined his head. "Until tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur forced himself to move forward, but could not prevent one last look back as he exited the tent. Merlin was curled up on the floor, pale as death, one pale shoulder bandaged a bloody red. If he were not shivering so badly, he might look dead already. Arthur could do no more. He gave the guards one last warning look, committing their faces to memory, and then, with a whip of the tent's door, he was gone.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for reviewing! This is a short beginning to set up the fic. What do you think of my Annis?<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks go to my beta Serendipity08, who is amazing! (forgot to thank her on chapter one—so sorry!) 

* * *

><p>It was a long walk back to the tents of Camelot's knights. Arthur trudged wearily, fighting himself nearly every step of the way. As king, he was slowly getting used to making choices that seemed to suck the very marrow out of his bones, but leaving Merlin behind to suffer…that took every bit of Arthur's iron will. Thus, it was with some sense of relief that he finished the climb up the long, steep hill to where his knights lay encamped.<p>

It was obvious, and appropriate, that his absence had been noticed. He heard voices and saw torches moving quickly. So much for arriving as quietly as he'd left.

"Sire!" Elyan was the first to see him approaching, but the other knights heard and came quickly. They crowded around him, giving the king direct and somewhat frustrated looks. Arthur put off the moment of explanation to ask for a report.

Leon looked startled, but recovered in an instant. "All is quiet around the camp. However, the guard checked your tent about a half an hour ago, and woke me when you were not found. I found Merlin was missing as well. I then woke Gwaine, Percival and Elyan and asked them to help me canvass the area directly surrounding the tents. We found nothing amiss, were only just beginning to panic and—then you were here."

"Alone," Gwaine noted, his tone approaching suspicion, "Where is Merlin, your highness?"

Arthur paused to take a deep breath. Of course Gwaine would go right for the jugular. Arthur rubbed at a tense place between his eyes, the place where his worry seemed to have settled for the duration.

"Where have you been, Sire?" Leon pressed.

"I've been to visit Queen Annis." The entire group of knights shifted at this news, exchanging startled and fierce glances. "I have begged for the right of single combat, in order to prevent a costly and unjust war."

"Smartly done, Sire," Leon said. "And who will be your champion?"

"I will," Arthur said quickly, raising a hand to prevent their protestations, "It was my mistake to kill Caerleon; it is my duty to see this through."

"And Merlin?" Gwaine's voice was tense, as if he already sensed the answer to his question.

"I sought the queen out alone, but Merlin followed me." Arthur paused. "He is being held until the contest tomorrow, a guarantee against treachery on our part."

Gwaine turned away briefly. "Let me guess, we're not even going to attempt a rescue?"

"No, we're not because I am trying to prevent a war, not start one. Do you understand me, Gwaine? There will be no rescue."

Gwaine turned sullen eyes on the king. "No. I don't understand. Do you think Merlin would have left you there? To the tender mercies of a queen who wants nothing more than blood revenge?"

"No, he probably wouldn't. But then he's not a king forced to consider his every action as probable cause for the destruction of his kingdom!" Arthur took a steadying breath. "I could not take Merlin away from there and still prevent war. It was an impossible situation. Queen Annis said that Merlin will be there at the contest tomorrow and will be released upon its conclusion. We must be ready to…help him then."

The men saw, with differing reactions, that their king was tightly strung and under no condition to handle more tension. Gwaine stalked off, swearing in dark, low tones, but forced himself to keep his sword in his sheath. Elyan put a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"This is difficult for you. But take heart; Merlin will endure."

Leon gave Arthur a small nod. "Now, if you're going to be fighting fit in the morning, Sire, you need rest and food. Let's go inside." Leon gestured for Arthur to return to his tent. Reluctantly, Arthur obeyed. He forced his mind down the familiar twin paths of duty and need, king and warrior.

* * *

><p>"Follow him," Annis told her guards, and two of them slipped out quietly to follow the king of Camelot, leaving her alone with the servant. The boy was in great discomfort, and Annis allowed herself a pang of sympathy for what he must be suffering. Then she moved on. Now that her husband was gone, she alone was responsible for keeping the kingdom and the name of Caerleon strong.<p>

"Do you require anything, your highness?" a mousy servant girl appeared and bowed at her side. Annis gestured sharply and the girl scurried away.

The queen was still considering the future. Little wonder that she hesitated, despite her conviction that Fate had delivered this momentous opportunity into her hands. For Annis had chosen to carve out for herself a weapon—one made of a fierce reputation for justice tempered with mercy.

Arthur had shown her the way, with his plea for single combat. This was a dangerous idea for a newly widowed queen whose entire kingdom was up at arms panting for revenge against Camelot. Indeed, every able-bodied man in Caerleon had been whipped into a frenzy by descriptions of Arthur and his base treatment of their king. If Annis agreed to Arthur's plea, she would be seen as a weak-willed woman who had no stomach for war. The carrion nobles back at the castle would be sharpening their daggers and watching for the perfect place to stab her in the back.

With a sudden flash of inspiration, she had found a way to not only end the war and possibly cause the king of Camelot's death, but also a way to appeal to the masses of Caerleon and appease their need for blood. This plan also had the especially rewarding benefit of bringing great pain to Arthur. Yes, she would use the boy to punish Arthur dearly for his transgression, to teach him more consideration. But even more, through Arthur's servant, the name of Annis of Caerleon would come to be respected and feared forever.

Merlin was drifting in a haze of white…just floating. Oddly enough, it felt as though he were high up and about to hit the ceiling. He had to keep his head tilted to the side to keep his face from getting scraped. Was he flying? He'd never been able to do _that_ before. A tug in his left shoulder made him wince. Something was pulling him down, something attached on the inside. The white haze was fading to black and the tug became a fiery burn.

With a gasp, Merlin opened his eyes and fought to keep still. Breathing was painful enough. Arthur? The king was nowhere in sight, which made Merlin start to panic until he remembered the king's last words to him. Right. Be a warrior. Something he obviously excelled at. Slowly, Merlin checked his condition. He was lying down, head cradled on his jacket, arm tucked in a sling made out of his belt…did Arthur really dress his wound?

Merlin tried not to move much as he surveyed the tent. The queen was there, paying him no mind, sitting on her throne and staring off at nothing. For someone who was the leader of thuggish barbarians, she was surprisingly well spoken. But she was nothing if not ruthless. He could almost assume that her plans for him did not include continued ignoring of him. If only. He was still trying to get his breathing under control.

There was a stirring at the tent flap and two guards entered. These guards seemed slightly better dressed than most of Caerleon's, with dark leather chest plates and some sort of dark, leather helmet. Of course, they went straight for Merlin. Merlin kept silent, forgoing the pleas he knew would fall on deaf ears as they grabbed him and lifted him to his feet. The rush of agony whited out his vision, and it seemed he was standing on the rolling deck of a ship instead of solid ground. If he stood, it was not of his own volition.

Eventually, his sight returned, with nausea rolling right in behind it. He bent forward as much as he was allowed, taking the strain off his shoulder and endeavoring to quell the stirrings of his stomach. Someone, a new guard, stepped forward into Merlin's sight.

"This is him, the servant of the man who dared to kill our king?" The man's voice held nothing but contempt.

"His most _trusted_ servant, Lwyd," Annis addressed the man with a soft tone in her voice, somewhat puzzling to Merlin. "One he treats like his own family."

Merlin snorted, a shadow of the full-bodied one he'd give if he weren't trying to keep still. He couldn't help—

A hard blow snapped his head to the right, jerking his injured shoulder and buckling his knees. His body was made of rubber, jerked and pulled in so many directions. So much pain…

"Get him up!" Someone was yelling.

After some time, Merlin opened his eyes. He was swaying and the guards had to jerk him upright every so often. Which made the pain blossom and his knees buckle again. Vicious cycle with no end. But, for some reason, Merlin could hear everything very well this time, his focus attuned to the conversation as though it was the most important thing he would ever hear.

"I don't want brute strength, Lwyd, not for this. No hidden, fatal injuries that send his king back to my castle for revenge. That is to be avoided at all cost. What I want is for Arthur to see on his servant's body the misery that was caused by his actions. I want him to feel what I felt when I saw the body of my husband. And I want our warriors to see that our mercy has teeth."

"Then why do you stay my hand?"

"Because, my warrior, this situation calls for delicacy and control. I will give you only eight strikes. Make them count."

After a pause, the warrior Lwyd, stepped closer until his breath, foul with mead, mixed with Merlin's own. "Only eight?"

"Yes. Can you obey me in this, or shall I grant your brother this honor in your stead?"

The man growled in reply, the deep rumble making Merlin's stomach churn again. He didn't want this. He couldn't handle any more pain.

"_I need you to be a warrior for me, Merlin. Be brave._" Was it Merlin's magic that made Arthur's remembered words shine in his mind like the silver of a freshly buffed shield? Whatever the reason, he focused on them. He must be Arthur's warrior now.

Eight strikes.

But forever afterward, Merlin could only remember three.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks go to my beta Serendipity08, who is amazing!

AN: Here again, we have some actual dialogue from the episode My Father's Son. Just borrowing a bit to help my fic stay as close as possible in storyline, no infringement meant whatsoever.

And my sincerest apologies to Merlin, who really doesn't deserve this...

* * *

><p>Arthur lay on his cot, eyes wide open. His body was begging for sleep, but his mind would not relent. He had made so many mistakes in such a short amount of time. First, killing Caerleon. Then, going to Gwen and breaking her heart by telling her they could no longer be together. Arthur winced. He'd actually said something about her being an "inappropriate" companion for a king. Now, as he faced death, he wished more than anything that his last words to her had not been so shortsighted and damn hurtful. At least then she would be able to remember him well.<p>

Those mistakes were bad enough, but now another smote his conscience. He had, over the past days, pushed Merlin away over and over again, ignoring his warnings, his camaraderie and his vulnerable offer of a listening ear. Instead, Arthur had used him as a punching bag. And how had Merlin repaid him? By following Arthur tonight and trying to protect him from the barbarians. It never made sense to Arthur why Merlin was so foolhardy, but he knew it had something to do with the servant's extreme loyalty and fervent desire to have Arthur's back.

Arthur swallowed hard. He had been so convinced that this was the right path for him, that he would be able to atone for his mistake and, if he survived, return to Gwen to make peace with her as well. But now, that certainty was shot to hell. If this was the right thing to do, then why was Merlin having a share in paying the price?

It was no help to ask what his father would have done. Uther had reiterated over and over again his tenant that servants were replaceable and not worth worry. He would have simply said, "The boy is suffering for Camelot's sake and any knight would be willing to do the same. There is no greater service to his king."

That was just one of the many areas where Arthur and his father differed dramatically. And yet, this time, he had to act exactly as Uther would have, as Gwaine had sharply pointed out. Ignore Merlin's pain. Leave him in the hands of the enemy. Sleep as if there was nothing on his mind at all.

What a fantastic plan, especially the part where half his kingdom relied on how much rest he got tonight. Because, after all, there was the small matter of a fight to the death with Caerleon's unknown champion.

Arthur forced his mind back to the conversation he'd had with Leon, on the fighting styles of Caerleon's warriors. They were brutish men, known for fighting more with blunt force and short weaponry than with strategy. Arthur would have his armor and his expertise in hand-to-hand combat. That and a burning desire to give Caerleon pain after what they'd done to Merlin. No. He cut himself off and forced the desperate feelings down. He could not win a fight on high emotion. That had been drilled into his head over and over again from the time he was a young boy of ten, still learning from Baorn, the captain of the knights.

"Settle your head between your shoulders and your heart beneath your armor, or you will lose both of them," the man had said over and over again, whacking him on his helmet with the flat of his sword. Baorn had a long, glorious career and died a noble death, protecting Uther in a campaign.

_Put your heart beneath your armor_. _Focus_.

What Arthur would _not _have in this fight was any assurance that the Caerleon warrior would know the rules of engagement. In fact, he should probably expect him to ignore them all. No quarter would be given. Arthur needed to stay completely out of the way of the man's weaponry, strike hard and strike first. And somehow, perhaps by an act of God, ignore Merlin's presence until the fight was done. 

* * *

><p>Gwaine eased his way out of the tent, sword in hand, and nearly ran into Rhys, who was dressed in full gear and standing right outside his tent. Funny. "Rhys, what are you doing?" he sighed.<p>

"Making sure you don't go anywhere. King's orders." The man shrugged.

Gwaine spat out an oath. "What do you expect me to do, go back in the tent and go to sleep while Merlin is being tortured?"

Rhys shifted. "I'm sure he's fine."

"No you're not. But hey, at least you're obeying your _king_." Gwaine looked up at Rhys through narrowed eyes. "And that's all that's really important, right? You can just stand here, doing your duty, and thank God it's not you over there. But what if it was? You think you'd be telling yourself over and over again what a privilege it is to suffer for the sake of Camelot?"

"I…don't know." Rhys found himself very tempted to give in and let the knight slip by. Everyone knew Gwaine didn't always play by the rules and that he was the deadliest knight in Camelot. But Arthur had commissioned Rhys for this job personally, and it was the first time he'd drawn notice for something all year. He could _not_ abandon his post and face his king afterwards. He just shook his head.

"Good answer." Gwaine clapped Rhys on the shoulder and grinned mirthlessly. "Next time we're sparring, Sir Rhys, I'm going to ask for _you."_

When the knight turned away to enter the tent, Rhys finally found his voice. "Phillip is around the back, so don't even think—"

And then, a small sound—_sheeeeewwww_, and Rhys found his weapon was out and up, only a second before the sword swinging in a wide arc clanged against his, just next to his throat. It was Gwaine, pressing forward, eyes blazing and his sword bearing down on Rhys so hard that the bigger man was forced to give ground. Leaning harder, Rhys gritted his teeth. "Go back inside, Gwaine, and keep calm. There's nothing you can do. Arthur won't let you."

Gwaine's eyes glittered dangerously and he held his sword hard at Rhys's throat until the moment to give up had long gone past. Finally, Gwaine relented. He fell back and his sword arm dropped until the weapon was touching the ground.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he muttered, "I swear to God. I have no idea what I'm doing. I need a drink."

Rhys straightened up and put away his sword. He gestured to Phillip, who returned to his post, and nodded to Leon, who was watching from outside the king's tent with a disappointed expression. He made a shushing gesture. Rhys nodded. Arthur getting sleep was of primary importance tonight. There were so few hours before daylight.

He heard Gwaine stumbling around and cursing inside the tent. At this rate, he was going to wake up everyone. After a moment, all grew quiet again. Rhys turned his back to woods and watched the tent and the distant campfire. Gwaine's words had stirred something in him.

Merlin wasn't a knight; this was something that had been emphasized by the king over and over again during those training sessions when he bashed the poor servant around in order "to toughen him up." It never seemed to work. And watching Merlin handle himself during those sessions had made the knights give him grudging respect. He took the worst Arthur dished out without any method of repayment. Gwaine, of course, had taken to punishing Arthur back in whatever contest they were having. Rhys had never done that, but somehow, he had begun to feel protective of Merlin, and to see him as their mascot of sorts. And now they were just supposed to turn their backs on him? It didn't seem right.

But then…what else could they do? 

* * *

><p>Light. Dark.<p>

Screaming…no, not… like that. Screaming not in mouth. From mouth. Bleeding from mouth. Salt on his tongue, blood from his lips…

Light. Dark. Screaming…not out loud. Don't. White hot…shaking. Tasting blood. Fingers…moving, dancing along a smooth bone then…sunken, broken. Pain. Screaming…no. Tears. No tears. White, hot. Light. Dark.

Fuzzing out. Never before. Breathing? Breathing. Don't move. Someone…standing. Eight…hits?

Fingers clenching, shaking, broken, cradling. Tongues of fire, of flame, dancing. In and out, a demonic tide, taking more and more of him…

Arthur?

No…don't. Touch. Screaming…on the inside. Fingers touching eyes…no. Wet? Blood. Dark. Screaming…on the insiiiiiiide. Dragging him down.

Shuddering breaths, shaking fingers. Inside not…broken. Magic…right…there. Silver…yes…soft silver glow. The rest faded… the agony scraping and piercing and pounding and screaming throughout his body, that made him shake and whimper and hate himself. The pain demanded attention, was so exhausting, no matter what he did. And his eyes…oh god, his eyes…

Slowly, the hum of magic grew louder until it began to silence the frantic pain. Merlin fell and fell and fell…into the soft comfort of a painless unconsciousness. 

* * *

><p>Morgana strode to the queen's tent with determination and well concealed glee. The word around the Caerleon fires was that Arthur himself was to fight as champion. The warriors were frustrated, but had been promised some sport. Apparently, the queen had a prisoner belonging to Arthur. A smirk danced on her lips. Yes, this was perfect. She could use this. If Merlin had bumbled his way into Queen Annis's hands, then surely he was not long for his world.<p>

Once this would have grieved her, but she almost laughed aloud at the thought now. At the entrance to the tent, she schooled her expression and gestured for the guards to step aside. They remembered her from her previous visit to the Caerleon castle and did not hold her arms as they escorted her inside.

Queen Annis turned immediately, and Morgana found herself once again the recipient of her calculating and impressive gaze. This woman's presence spoke of a lifetime of experience and gained wisdom that could be brought to bear on any situation. Morgana found herself discarding her first choice of words, changing tactics before she'd spoken a single word.

"I heard the news."

Annis turned away. "I don't like it. It must be a trick."

"What concerns you, your highness?" Her voice was sickly sweet, a rotten imitation of her old, Uther-pleasing ways.

"Arthur. Why would he choose himself the champion?"

"Because he's Arthur. He'll always choose to risk his own life over others'. Trust me, it's no trick. Arthur will fight."

"Oh, I know he'll fight. I have his man here." Annis walked closer to Morgana. "I was actually more concerned about you, that you and Arthur might be working together, playing me for a fool." She gave the girl a disconcerting look.

"Me? Work with Arthur? Only to bring about his own death, I assure you."

"You desire the throne of Camelot, do you not?"

"I don't deny it. It is rightfully mine, after all. But he will not win."

"How do you know this?"

"Because I have the power to ensure that he doesn't."

Annis face cleared. Here was something she understood. "Then you must use it."

"I will, on one condition. You let me see his manservant. I want to pay my…respects."

Morgana nearly laughed when Annis led her to where Arthur's servant was sprawled out on a litter, ready to carry out to the battlefield. He looked like the living dead. She had to look closely twice to be sure that it was him. Dried blood pooled under his nose and over his lips, which were split and doubly bloody. His eyes looked…wrong. Both were black and swollen shut; more than that, the fine bones of his brow had crumpled on the right side, and extreme bruising had swollen that side of his face. More bruises were scattered around his face and neck. One ear looked torn. A very thorough beating.

Morgana smiled as she stood back up. "We won't even need my magic to make Arthur lose. Seeing Merlin like this will kill him."

"Then I believe we are ready." Annis gave Morgana a contented smile.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks so much to Serendipity08, who is a fabulous beta. And thanks to all you reviewers! SpangleyPony, TeganL74, KittyO, LinzPhantom, OceanMintLeaves, MamzelleHermy, Loopstagirl and so many others-thank you!

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

Arthur woke with a start, sure that someone had yelled his name.

"Merlin?"

There was a scramble at the door of the tent. Sir Leon appeared, off-balance and shaking his head as if he were trying to wake up. "What was that, Sire? Did you call me?"

"No. Nothing." His voice was husky from disuse and dread. Now he remembered—Merlin, the single combat…Gwen. "Is it time yet?"

"Several hours to go. Try to rest."

Arthur grunted. It felt like his mind had been working all night, feverishly turning over and over his mistakes and fears. He had chosen ill and the future of his kingdom was bucking like a wild stallion no man could tame. Throwing back the covers, Arthur sat up and put his feet down on the floor. He hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees.

The cool morning light made things look differently. His only choice was to keep moving forward, to try to be worthy of the Pendragon name. He must win this combat at all costs. For now, there was nothing else Arthur could do but pray. And so he did, for strength in his body, calm in his mind and quickness in his sword. He could do this. He would do this. For Merlin. For Gwen. And for Camelot.

* * *

><p>Annis walked ahead of the litter bearing the king of Camelot's servant. He remained in a state of half-consciousness, which was probably more pleasant for him. The warriors of Caerleon were not kind as he was moved slowly down the path, though none were allowed to raise a hand to him. Mostly it was shouted insults and thrown objects, a few grosser elements among them.<p>

Morgana walked behind the litter, drinking in the hate and the madness around her like an intoxicating wine. Annis found this a little disturbing, but she could put up with it as long as the girl was serving Caerleon's interests as well as her own. As to what would happen after Morgana had proved her usefulness, a quick severance of alliances might be best.

The barbarian horde fell in behind them as they walked to the agreed meeting place. Annis looked upon the grim fierceness of her men and felt power surge into her with every battle cry and every shout for vengeance. This day was theirs. King Arthur would find his path to victory blocked on several fronts. How could he win, with sorcery, guilt and his own kin united against him?

The army from Camelot had not arrived yet, which was all according to plan. Annis wanted time to set up her little…surprise.

* * *

><p>Arthur felt slightly off-kilter as he led the way. His armor was in place, fitted to him expertly by Sir Leon. Having someone other than Merlin aid him had been painful, but the knight had tried to ease the moment with a report on Gwaine's ridiculous efforts to escape camp. Late this morning, the knights had been forced to take away his sword and have him sit with Elyan. "His language alone would curdle milk, Sire."<p>

Arthur had appreciated the story, and the sentiment behind Gwaine's actions. They were fighting the same desperation; for Arthur, simply breathing took effort. He gave last-minute instructions to Leon on what to do if he fell in battle, including giving his signet ring to Gwen. Then there was little to do but face the day.

He exited the tent to a loud rallying cry from his knights and began the long walk to the agreed upon neutral territory. Though the loud vocal support was enough to distract Arthur for a time, as friend after friend fell in beside and behind him, the grim march left far too much time to think. It became more and more difficult to banish the rising fear for his friend.

The disquiet in him reached a crescendo at the sight of the opposing army standing fierce and strong, lined up two stone's throws from the cliff's edge. Arthur's gaze swept the line desperately, finding Queen Annis standing among them, her eyes fixed on his. Beside her was—

_Merlin._ Arthur ceased to breathe. The rest of the world went dark as though the sun had been swallowed by a black cloud. The bruises…and blood…even from here, he could see that Merlin had been battered almost beyond recognition. His lanky frame was half-leaning, half-hung on a crosspiece, arms tied in place like a ghoulish scarecrow. It was—

Arthur didn't even realize his knees had buckled until Leon was there, bracing him under one shoulder. His words sounded faint and strange. "Don't, Sire. The King of Camelot does not kneel before his enemy."

An anguished roar came from his left as Gwaine drove his sword into the ground.

Arthur turned his head away, trying to gather himself. But his eyes were drawn back to Gwaine. The man was hunched over, every muscle clenched, hair strewn across his face. There was death in his eyes.

"Merlin…does he yet live?" Arthur asked hoarsely, not able to look for himself. Leon was concentrating, his gaze fixed below. There was a stir among the knights.

"Yes!" he cried. "Yes, he is alive. He moved his hand, Sire."

Gwaine slumped. Relief spread throughout the crowd and several hands slapped Arthur on the back. The king felt some measure of strength return to him. "He's still alive. Good. Then I will fight."

Leon stepped away and the king straightened. He did not say anything more, and he did not dare to look in Merlin's direction again.

* * *

><p>Morgana was thrilled. Why hadn't she thought to torture Merlin before? Arthur's reaction had been extraordinary, pain upon pain upon agony. Beautiful. But now he'd strapped on his battle face and was striding down the path to meet Caerleon's champion. There lay another surprise for him. Seven-foot-nine Derrian made a formidable foe for any man, and Arthur was going to fight him with an enchanted sword that Morgana herself controlled.<p>

She glanced over at Merlin, taking in the way he shivered and tried to hold his head up. She wanted to go over and slap him, but Annis had been firm that the abuse was over. Oh well. She'd settle for Arthur's blood instead.

Derrian was striding out from behind the line of Caerleon's warriors, and she saw a ripple of dismay from Camelot's soldiers on the cliff. That's right, she thought, get a good look at the man who will destroy Arthur and take half your kingdom away. Then I'll take the other half, kill Annis and usurp two kingdoms. For a start. Morgana's wicked plan rolled along in front of her eyes until the clanging of sword on sword brought her back to the present.

The fight had begun.

* * *

><p>Merlin hung helplessly, his focus on the silver glow inside the darkness of his mind. The glow helped numb the pain, so he fed it and tended it like a small, struggling fire. Dimly, he was aware that his arms were stretched to the side, tied in place and numb almost to the shoulders now. He knew he was damaged and his senses dulled, hardly able to function past the pain. The worst was his eyes—agony every time his eyes moved in their sockets. But focusing on the silver glow inside also kept his eyes still and the pain at bay. It was working for him.<p>

Until he heard Gwaine's ragged cry.

That sound shook Merlin to the core and he was suddenly gasping for breath, fighting wretchedly to keep his eyes from searching for his friend. They were here? Was Arthur ready to fight? Was this almost over? Not able to raise his head, he settled for raising a fist. Such a small gesture, but it was all he could manage.

Finally he stilled his eyes and let the agony of his movements die down. He needed to stay conscious. Arthur was readying to fight Annis's champion and there was some foul plot underpinning the queen's hope of victory. Merlin hadn't figured it out yet, nor had he figured out a way to help if he couldn't _see_. But he had to do something…

Wincing, holding back a cry, the warlock tried to send out his senses. He knew that in every living thing, there was a bit of magic, whether tree, leaf or blade of grass. Most sorcerers learned to tap into that, to pull it inside themselves and control its release with spell words. Merlin had never had to do that. Magic came from _within _him. But now, he reached out with singular focus like the clumsiest sorcerer. What was around him? What could he use?

There. Merlin sensed small lights, dim but very much alive. Could it be grass? Many blades of grass, rolling up and down hills like the waves of the ocean. Yes. Even smaller lights beyond and around that…which was moss climbing up something…climbing over something and up…rocks. Those shapes were blank of life, but still possessed a faint hum of magic. As did the path down from the rocks, at least—

A figure on the path, bright with life…was that Arthur coming down the path? With his eyes shut, clenched in sharp, biting pain, Merlin "watched" his king approach the smooth ground at the foot of the cliff. Arthur, he wanted to shout, but didn't. After the horror and humiliating pain of the past few hours, it was Arthur…whose sword seemed to gleam in Merlin's mind even more brightly than anything else around, but with a foul, noisome magic that made the warlock tremble.

* * *

><p>Arthur was in his element. There was no room for emotion in combat. There was only strategy. It didn't take Arthur long to realize Derrian's drawbacks as a warrior. He was mind numbingly stupid and slow as an ox. However, he was also as strong as an ox. And fighting someone who towered over you by that much was just…disturbing. But Arthur was used to combat, used to someone else holding the advantage, used to someone wanting him dead. The key was to not give them anything to use against you. Make no mistakes. Don't let emotion cloud your judgment.<p>

Arthur's strategy was simple: be the smaller, quicker opponent. Use quick jabs, quick retreats and draw blood whenever possible. Weaken him and then strike hard.

Unfortunately, the large man struck first, catching Arthur a glancing blow on the cheek. When Arthur took advantage of his momentum to slice out, he drew first blood, which, he thought, was a good thing. All part of his strategy. Except that drawing blood made the towering mountain of flesh rather angry and all of his hard sword swings became impossibly hard—driven by pure rage. Arthur had to jump around like a jackrabbit and block swing after swing to stay alive, which really started to piss him off.

His wall of self-control began to crumble. Memories assaulted him—Merlin's face as they had pierced his shoulder, _"Sorry about this,"_ and the last view of him, helpless, as Arthur had left the tent that night. What kind of a hellish nightmare was Queen Annis? How dare she hurt an innocent man? How _dare _she?

Arthur went on the attack, blade flashing, a roar of rage leaving him without permission. Again and again he struck, faster, harder, in a frenzy of motion. The giant fell back a few steps, slightly off-balance. Instantly, Arthur knew it to be the perfect moment, knew the perfect strike to execute; he was seconds away from claiming victory. He swung his sword back to take the giant's bloody head off.

Then everything started to go wrong.

* * *

><p>The fight had been an overload to Merlin's senses from the start. He spent most of it clawing his way back from unconsciousness. But finally, there it was. Merlin stirred as he felt magic, polluted and potent, touch Arthur's sword. <p>

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, this is a terrible place to leave it. I'm so sorry, but it had to be done to keep the next chapter unbroken!


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Writing this chapter nearly killed me, fair warning. I had to wrestle it into submission and I really hope it works. _

_All right...so...we left at the worst possible moment, when Arthur's sword was dragged down by the weight of the ages..._

* * *

><p>Merlin writhed in his bonds, excruciating pain aborting every attempt to open his eyes. His hands were tied and his eyes…he couldn't focus any magic without his eyes. He couldn't help Arthur. He couldn't do <em>anything.<em>

* * *

><p>Arthur was helpless. His traitorous sword, still in his grip, lay limply behind him, impossible to lift, much less swing a killing blow or, more importantly, block one.<p>

The giant's eyes lit up as soon as the panic showed on Arthur's face, and he smiled.

It was not a nice smile.

* * *

><p>Merlin pulled his head up blindly and, eyes shut and streaming, forced his senses to focus again, to read the living things around him. There. The giant, over Arthur, was swinging his sword down like a battleaxe. Merlin gasped. At the last second, Arthur stepped to the side, evading the stroke, and threw a strong right to the giant's nose that did nothing.<p>

Merlin groaned, feeling his magic build uselessly. If they had only left his hands free…

The giant's next swing made contact and Arthur yelled as the blade sliced through his chain mail. _No!_ Merlin stood and strained forward until he was bent like a bow. Power pulsed through him.

* * *

><p>Annis caught her breath. Arthur was on his knees, struggling against Morgana's magic like a moth caught by one wing. Derrian's blade was poised to cleave the king's head from his shoulders, just recompense for the loss of Caerleon's king.<p>

Victory was nearly theirs.

Then two things happened at once: the servant boy screamed, somehow a wail of agony and blood-pounding rage both, while on the field, Arthur suddenly fell back as though shoved. He was flat on his back when Derrian's blade swung through, missing him completely. That was magic. It had been years since Annis had seen it.

Annis sent a hard look at Morgana. "Did you do that?"

"Of course I didn't. I want him dead as much as you do," Morgana spat.

Derrian roared and looked over his shoulder at Annis in confusion. She gestured to him to continue. He refocused on Arthur, who had rolled onto his side and was slowly climbing to his feet. The king's sword was on the grass, and in his hand was a dagger.

Each warrior was allowed two weapons, but Annis was surprised at Arthur's choice. Then again, what choice did he have? "Looks like your magic is now useless," Annis said to Morgana pointedly. The girl's face had gone bloodless.

"No," she whispered. Her eyes glowed gold.

"Stop!" Annis gripped her arm and shook her slightly. Morgana looked at her, shocked, but her eyes blue once more. "I will not have your emotional outbursts endangering my kingdom."

"But I can make him lose," Morgana said in a choked voice. "He _needs_ to lose."

"No. Not that way."

Annis released her and focused once more on the two figures in front of them. An instinct was screaming at her to be wary. There was more going on here than she had first thought.

* * *

><p>Arthur was sweating heavily in his chain mail. He couldn't catch quite a deep enough breath. The dagger felt like nothing, like a feather in his hand to face down that enormous scythe of a sword. But he was still alive, somehow, and he was on his feet.<p>

With this weapon, he would only get one or two chances.

The giant lumbered forward and Arthur watched for an opening, a way to dodge the inevitable sword stroke and attack with the dagger. No opening yet. Arthur's side pulled painfully with every step backward. There was no way; the giant's reach was too long. Arthur gritted his teeth, turned and ran.

* * *

><p>Jeers broke out from the barbarian army in a cacophony of hatred. Morgana laughed. Only seconds away from Arthur's demise now…<p>

* * *

><p>Annis watched the king change strategies. She watched Morgana; and she watched the serving boy stirring again. A feeling of dread uncoiled in her stomach.<p>

If she was right...then her thirst for revenge might have led her to make the biggest mistake of her life.

* * *

><p>As soon as the darkness receded a little, Merlin was focusing again. Arthur was still alive, still fighting, and he'd left the sword behind. Actually, he'd left the whole fight behind. He was running. Finally showing some sense. And…a dagger? That was his weapon?<p>

The giant was roaring as he pounded after Arthur. Merlin stood and focused, trembling like a leaf caught in a spiderweb. The king had to be saved at all costs. Spikes of pain exploded like shooting stars in Merlin's mind. He tried to maintain focus. Arthur…

Merlin pushed out with his magic desperately, gasping—

—a sword raised to strike Arthur's head from his shoulders—

—white hot fury, reaching—

—farther—

_There!_ He found the giant, and—

* * *

><p>Silence fell as Annis's champion froze in his tracks. Bellowing in pain, Derrian arched back and dropped his sword to the ground behind him. Annis knew Derrian well, had seen him fight nearly two hundred battles. Pain never stopped him; it made him angry. But <em>this...<em>

The queen's gaze slid to the servant boy. He was rigid, furious, and somehow, even with his eyesight obliterated, still focused on his king below.

"You fool," she spat at Morgana as she strode away.

* * *

><p>Morgana barely heard Annis's words. The giant was on his knees before the king. To the sound of hundreds of Camelot's soldiers applauding and yelling—that braggart Gwaine loudest of all—Arthur stepped forward and drove his dagger in and out of Derrian's left shoulder.<p>

How cute. An injury that matched Merlin's.

Then she watched in amazement as Arthur dropped his dagger and proceeded to beat the giant mercilessly. After a minute, the king stopped and looked at Merlin. Morgana glanced over as well, to see that Annis had already bade her people take the boy down and begin treating his injuries. Oh, she knew how to play the game all right.

Morgana crossed her arms. If this was the part where everybody made up and became friends again, they could count her out.

* * *

><p>Arthur looked back down at the giant, swaying on his knees before him. <em>"You've always shown mercy on the battlefield before, Arthur. You never seek to humiliate your enemies. This isn't like you." <em>The king could hear Merlin's words clearly in his head. Only two more strikes then.

He made a fist and drove it into the giant's right eye, rocking him back. One more punch to the left eye and this time, the giant went down, bloody and beaten.

Arthur took a few deep breaths, then picked up his weapons and cleaned them hastily. His sword seemed fine now. He shoved it in its scabbard. The pain from the slice in his side took his breath away. He paused to brace his right arm by hooking the hand on the collar of his armor. With a single grunt of pain, he strode foward. Gwaine was a few lengths ahead of him, already heading for Queen Annis and the litter bearing Merlin. Of course, two of Annis' guards stepped forward to stop him.

"Just give me an excuse! Come on!" Gwaine yelled, pulling out his sword.

"Gwaine, stop! Put your sword away," he admonished as he reached him. Annis' men had not drawn weapons, much to the knight's frustration, and as Arthur approached, they moved away. The men bearing Merlin's litter set him down on the ground and Gwaine was there instantly.

"My god," he said softly.

Arthur was so close to Merlin now that his servant's stillness and injury pulled at him like a force of nature. But he would not look; his earlier reaction told him to leave that to a private moment. Instead, his eyes drilled into Annis's as she approached. "Your highness, the appalling treatment of my servant is an insult of the gravest kind. This was a helpless man, an innocent man, left in your care. How shall you answer for it?"

Annis met his eyes easily. "I shall answer readily. This was no ordinary meeting between us, King Arthur, as well you know. When you came to plead your case before me, you had already paid me an insult of the gravest kind in the death of my husband." Arthur looked down when she paused. He could not regret that decision more. But Annis was not done. "My blood was running hot for revenge and it demanded that I repay hurt for hurt. In Caerleon, justice is often meted out in such a manner. That does not, however, make it right in a matter between kingdoms." She sighed. "For the suffering of your servant, I ask your forgiveness. If it were in my power to undo it, I would do so. As penance, I will pay whatever recompense you may deem appropriate."

Arthur waved a hand to dismiss the gesture. No gold would be enough.

"Very well. Then do have I your word that you will not seek retribution other than what you have inflicted upon _my_ servant? I believe you were very thorough in repaying us pain for pain."

Arthur looked over to where the giant lay on his back, being tended to by a few of Caerleon's men. The giant did look to be in some pain. Arthur inclined his head.

"You have my word, such as it is."

She smiled thinly. "I have learned to treat your word with the respect it is due."

Arthur's brow furrowed. Annis was a mystery. He couldn't, for all the gold in Camelot, tell if she was truly regretful for her actions or simply taking advantage of his guilt-ridden conscience. Either way, his path was clear. "Then let us put these events behind us. In our blindness, each of us has stolen something from the other, and then made an effort to make it right. Until such a time as mistakes can be unmade, the only solution is to go forward and try to make no more. I am for peace, and would have Camelot and Caerleon as peaceful neighbors again. Will you join me in endeavoring to make it so?"

"I will. You did not kill my champion when his life was in your hands and there was still rage in your heart." She gave him an appraising look. "I believe in your peace. And so, you may be sure I will comply absolutely with the terms of our agreement. My army will be gone by nightfall."

"Thank you, your highness."

Annis held out her arm, palm up. Arthur hesitated, then stepped forward and gripped her arm firmly. They held like that a moment, measuring each other with their eyes. Arthur, for the first time since he had heard Annis's name, felt a measure of reassurance. Evidently, Annis did as well. Was that relief in her eyes?

"There is something about you, Arthur Pendragon…something that gives me hope for us all."

This time when she said his full name, it did not sound like an insult.

* * *

><p>Gwaine shed his gloves and started to check Merlin for injuries, ignoring the royal conversation going on nearby. Kings and queens wasted too much time talking. Merlin could be dying and they were just going to stand there and let him. Gwaine cursed under his breath and tried to stop the thundering of his heart.<p>

First off, he checked the puncture wound in Merlin's shoulder. Arthur had told them about that earlier. It was bandaged underneath his torn shirt, but fresh blood was saturating the material, of course. They'd had the boy tied up like a scarecrow, for god's sake, even knowing that he was injured.

Gwaine next studied his face, which was bruised, bloodied and swollen to a horrific degree. The left eye seemed the worst of it. Gwaine gently tilted Merlin's face and saw the reason. The bone over his left eye caved in at the browline, broken. Gwaine reached out, but stopped himself before touching the break. He had to pause, take in a deeper breath. To think of someone hitting Merlin that hard…it made him physically sick.

"All right, Gwaine?" Elyan asked softly, a hand on his shoulder. Gwaine shook his head. He hadn't even realized the other knights were there yet. For some reason they were standing back, watching him. Where was the healer?

"Looks like the gang is all here, Merlin," Gwaine murmured, forcing himself back to the job. He pulled down the blanket Annis's guards had hastily thrown over Merlin's body and sent a ghosting touch across the long collar bones disappearing under Merlin's ragged shirt. Neither was broken. Merlin's shoulders were not dislocated, not damaged beyond the puncture wound. Good. His arms were straight and the bones whole.

Gwaine paused when he got to Merlin's hands. The right was black with dried blood, probably from the shoulder wound, bruised, and two of the long fingers were bent at odd angles, swollen black and blue. Defensive wounds. His left hand had a bruise like a heel mark from a boot. This took another few deep breaths to process.

Gwaine looked away, grief and rage wrestling for dominance. This is usually when he would be attacking someone or getting drunk off his arse. And now, he could do neither. At some point, Arthur had come over to stand beside him. Gwaine looked up at the king who was avoiding looking at Merlin.

"Is he…all right?" Arthur finally asked.

Gwaine gave him a disgusted look.

"I mean…I know he's not all right," Arthur amended quickly. "I meant, how bad are his injuries?"

"Not done yet," Gwaine growled, then turned back to Merlin. Why was he the only one doing this? He bent over, tugging Merlin's shirt up to take a look at his ribs, cursing again at a dark patch on his left side. He touched the bruise gently and felt the bone give—cracked or maybe broken. The one beside it as well. "Two broken ribs, sire." He made the words sound as insolent as he could, because he was angry. Arthur said nothing.

Quickly now, worried what he would find, Gwaine checked the boy's hip bones, ran a gentle hand down each leg and felt around Merlin's ankles. He found no other injuries and breathed a little easier. There were sure to be bruises, but, all in all…

Gwaine stood, feeling a new grimness take hold of him. He turned to Arthur, who was watching him with furrowed brow. "Not as bad as I expected. Most of his injuries were done on the outside, where they were sure to be seen."

Arthur eyes glittered with emotion before he spun away. "Get him up so we can leave this wretched place."

* * *

><p>Gwaine took one corner of the litter, with Leon, Percival and Elyan taking the others. They lifted Merlin and followed after Arthur.<p>

Percival, Elyan, Gwaine and Leon all helped carry Merlin back to Camelot's camp. Arthur, who still had an injury to take care of, found it difficult enough to make the walk himself. Merlin did not stir at all during the journey. As his litter passed by, knights moved out of the way and stood respectfully to the side. It made quite a picture as the sunset painted the sky, knights bowing their heads and standing by in awe. Had Merlin been aware, he would have been shocked to find himself the object of such quiet contemplation.

Arthur walked behind the litter struggling to keep the dark at bay.

* * *

><p>Was it hours or days later that Arthur sat and watched Merlin breathe? Time was literally crawling by, had been ever since the first moments Arthur had truly seen Merlin's face. They were in the tent now, both having been tended to by healers. Gaius was still on his way from Camelot, and the others had been ordered to leave them alone.<p>

How long ago had that been? Arthur had almost gotten used to the way his servant looked. Or at least, it didn't cause him physical pain to look at him, as it had at first. Annis was wise to get his promise beforehand that he wouldn't seek revenge. Because otherwise…

Arthur shook his head and tried to keep his thoughts from traveling down that road. Again. Ironically, when his thoughts got this dark, it was his servant who usually helped steer him on to more helpful, practical footing. Not this time. This time he had to face the consequences of his actions alone.

"Sire?" Sir Leon was standing there, at the entrance to the king's tent.

"Yes?"

"The healer wanted you to rest, to help that wound heal."

"I am resting, Sir Leon."

"Lying down would be preferable, sire."

"Yes. It probably would," he returned tersely.

"When Gaius gets here, he probably won't be happy with you."

"No, he will not, but it won't be because I'm not resting properly. Leave me."

"But, sire—"

Arthur's curt gesture cut him off. The knight retreated. Arthur once again went back to watching Merlin's chest rise and fall. The healer had wrapped his servant's chest in bandages, trying to give support to the broken ribs. Merlin's fingers had also gotten bathed and wrapped. His face had looked better once they had gotten the blood off, but his eyes had been so swollen and the skin around them so damaged that the healer had put salve on them and covered them as well.

Arthur was dreading Gaius's arrival. However, his lateness had proven a blessing. This way, he hadn't seen Merlin at his worst. There was a flurry of motion at the door, and then the voice Arthur had been dreading to hear.

"Where is he?"

"This way, Gaius." Leon opened the tent and in swept Gaius, his bag of supplies at his side. He dropped it as soon as he got a look at Merlin.

"S-s-sire, I had no idea. They-they said he was injured…" Gaius looked at Arthur.

"Please, take a look. He's already been treated." Arthur stood stiffly and moved out of the way.

"And you, sire?"

"Already taken care of. Please…see to Merlin."

Gaius nodded, his eyes bright. Arthur turned away as Gaius moved over to the bed. "Oh my boy," he heard Gaius whisper. That did it. Arthur's self-control melted like wax in flame and then he was sitting, tears rolling unchecked down his face, choking on sobs that came from some deep unknown place. He buried his face in his hands and cried.

After a time, someone helped him on to his cot and he stretched out, exhausted in more ways than one.

A kind, familiar hand smoothed his brow. "He is healing nicely, sire. Rest yourself."

"It's my fault," Arthur whispered, to everyone, to no one.

"Merlin will be fine, Arthur. I'll see to it."

"Thank you, Gaius. Thank you," Arthur clung for a moment to the kind hand before turning over and drifting off into sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

They were back in Camelot. His knights were back where they should be. After an exhausting campaign such as this, most everyone was just relieved to be home and in one piece. There had been a push to have a feast, but Arthur would hear none of it, not until Merlin had at least opened his eyes. It might be the duty of the king to mark special days and to celebrate victories, but how could he, when it was only thanks to him that the whole damn situation had come about to begin with? For some reason, no one wanted to acknowledge that. They all wanted to clap him on the back and embellish the story of how he'd beat a giant eight-feet-tall.

Arthur half-hoped that Merlin would be different. The servant had been through a hell of an experience, had a ready mouth as anyone could testify, and what the king really needed was someone to point the bloody finger at him and say, "Badly done."

Arthur rubbed at the tense spot between his eyes. He knew that probably wasn't going to happen. Merlin was too loyal to say that, and once he woke up, he was going to be in too much pain to say much of anything. Which brought him back to the question: why wasn't he awake yet?

"He's just resting, trying to get better." A small hand reached over and slid into his. "Gaius said it would take time."Arthur's heart lightened. Gwen had forgiven him for pushing her away and for casting the entire kingdom, especially Merlin, into danger. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, beyond grateful.

"Would you like anything to eat?"

"No, thank you."

"Well, I'm starved. I'll bring you something back." Gwen kissed the top of his head and caressed his shoulder before walking away. She turned back at the door. "Maybe you should try talking to him. Maybe he can hear you."

After another few minutes of silently sitting alone, Arthur decided that the magnanimous words he'd said to Queen Annis were true. Until such a time as it was possible to go back into the past and fix his mistakes, there was no solution except to go forward and…do better. Arthur stood to his feet briskly, grunting once when his injury pulled hard. He pressed a hand to it firmly. No more taking Merlin for granted. Always expect him to do the loyal and brave thing; prevent him when prudent and whenever possible. Stop throwing things at him. And for the love of all that's holy and true, _listen_ to the boy. There. Arthur paused.

Of course, as momentous as these decisions were, they did not help Merlin to wake suddenly out of gratitude, as Arthur had been half-hoping. He huffed out a breath. For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that this whole thing had been engineered to teach him a lesson. And if that was so, then maybe this punishment would stop if he could just prove that he had learnt what he should have.

"Come on. This has gone on long enough," he said quietly, to whoever was watching, listening or planning. Merlin didn't stir. Arthur sighed, reached down and hesitated. There was this one tuft of Merlin's hair that kept flipping back and no one else seemed to see it. He smoothed it to the side, smiling briefly at the thought of what Merlin would say if he were awake, surely something about Arthur being the one like a girl now.

Arthur hesitated again, moved his hand to the top of Merlin's head and placed his palm there. He leaned over and spoke quietly, intently to his unconscious friend. "I'm going to do a better job of taking care of you in the future, old friend. That, I promise."

Gwen had said more than once as they watched Merlin sleep that he had the face of an angel. Arthur couldn't comment on that, but Merlin did look young and innocent in a way that he didn't when he was awake. But he had yet to see a painting of an angel that had bruises, cuts and blinded eyes.

* * *

><p>Later, Gwaine stopped in again, which brought immediate tension into the room.<p>

"Any change?" he asked softly as he looked Merlin over.

Arthur shook his head, dreading the next words out of Gwaine's mouth. He always managed to find a backwards way of making Arthur feel even more guilt.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said earlier." Arthur looked up, surprised. Gwaine was still looking at Merlin. "I don't like what you did; I wouldn't have done it, left him like that; but I know you felt you were doing the right thing. And I can see that you're not resting easy over it, either."

"Of course not. It was the devil's own choice I had to make. Had I refused to use him as my bond, I have every reason to believe they would have killed him right then and there."

"Killed him?"

"They had caught him spying on us. Apparently, that was all the reason they needed."

Gwaine growled and mumbled something under his breath. He turned to the king with a twisted smile. "That's it for me then. I'll be out there, pounding on something. If anything changes…"

"I'll send someone."

Gwaine held Arthur's eyes a moment then nodded.

He left and Arthur was alone with his thoughts and an unconscious Merlin again. Gaius bustled in and checked over Merlin's bandages, gently adding salve to his eyes and a fragrant balm to his broken fingers and ribs. His shoulder seemed to be healing nicely. As horrifying and painful as it was, the actual wound had been clean and small.

Arthur watched carefully, but Merlin didn't stir during any of Gaius's ministrations. Afterward, a messenger came to take Gaius to tend an injury somewhere else in the castle. Gaius left reluctantly, giving instructions to Arthur before he went.

Eventually, Gwen came, cajoled Arthur into eating, and left to do something useful. She hated seeing Merlin like this, and apparently, she dealt with it by being busy. Not Arthur. He sighed and shifted in the uncomfortable chair. What kind of sadistic bastard had designed Merlin's room? Really. Cramped, dark and dirty with the stain of decades of ill-use and furnished with what barely passed for furniture. That bed had the thinnest mattress Arthur had ever seen in existence. How could Merlin stand it? Had no one given any thought to his quarters before? Arthur considered idly how to make it more comfortable for his servant, and the idea took root in his mind. He could enlist Gwen. The thought made him smile.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Arthur woke suddenly, surprised to find himself asleep in the chair. Gaius had returned, looking exhausted. Arthur begged him to lie down and get some sleep. "I'll wake you if there's any change." Gaius came impertinently close to ordering the king home and in his own bed, but Arthur gave him a glance that quelled that thought. He wasn't leaving until Merlin woke up. Gaius gave in, brought him a draught for pain should he need it and went to lie down.<p>

Arthur shifted and stretched out the stiffness in his neck. His eyelids were dragging back down despite the godforsaken chair and his wound was on fire. Good. He set his feet up on the edge of Merlin's plank of a bed. It would help keep him awake.

Despite the pain, he must have drifted off at some point, because when he woke, everything was different. The room had darkened with the approach of night and someone had lit candles around the room. Merlin was no longer lying in bed like a sack of potatoes, or an angel, either one. He was awake, kneeling on the floor, encased in blankets, reaching out and around for something, blinded and in pain. The desperate sounds coming from him snapped Arthur awake like a splash of cold water.

Arthur jumped up and skidded to the door. "Gaius! He's awake!" Arthur shouted down the stairs. He turned back to see Merlin standing now, shedding blankets at every step. "Merlin, what is it?"

Merlin was babbling incoherently. There was high color in his cheeks and obvious pain in every movement. He had pulled the bandages free from his eyes. One hand still floated there as if afraid to touch, while the other, bandaged with broken fingers, waved and trembled in the air as if he were searching for something.

"Merlin. Stay calm. Be careful, or you'll—"

As soon as Arthur touched him, the boy panicked, crying out hoarsely and jerking back toward the bed. Before Arthur could move to help, Merlin slipped on the blankets and fell on his side with a thud that closed his mouth as effectively as a gag. Arthur knelt beside him, concerned to hear the short, desperate breaths coming from his servant. Merlin had his head in his hands, body curled and tense as if awaiting a blow. Arthur moved back. He was afraid to try touching him again and the boy didn't seem to hear him.

"What happened?" Gaius was peering into the room as he reached the top of the stairs.

"I don't think he knows where he is."

"He's disoriented. Probably from the fever, or perhaps simply from his injuries. Merlin?" Gaius crouched over the boy and put a hand on his arm. Merlin flinched but then his wrapped right hand slowly crept up to Gaius's.

"Gaius?" he said faintly.

"Yes, my boy."

"'s this a dream?"

"No, you're home now."

Merlin's hand clenched. "So much noise…in my head."

"Let's get you back in bed. You need to rest."

"Arthur?"

"I'm here, Merlin. That was me you nearly knocked out a moment ago when I tried to help you."

Merlin turned blindly in his direction before grimacing and covering his eyes again. "Sorry, Arthur. Are you hurt?"

"Don't worry about him, Merlin. He's doing far better than you are," Gaius said, grasping Merlin's uninjured arm to pull him to his feet. "If you would, sire." Gaius gestured to Arthur to help him. Merlin finally released his head and let them pull him up. His knees gave way almost immediately and it was a three-person job to get him angled back onto the bed. How _could_ one person be so gangly and clumsy and long-limbed? Arthur laid Merlin's limp right arm and hand back onto his wrapped stomach. Bandages on top of bandages.

"Gaius…"Merlin said weakly. Arthur was startled to see that he was still awake. "My eyes?"

Gaius grimaced as he sat on the edge of the cot and patted Merlin's good hand. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

Merlin gritted his teeth. "How bad are they?"

"I'd like to take another look. Drink this first." Gaius reached for the small bottle on the table. "Arthur, would you get him some water?"

Arthur nodded then went quickly back down the stairs. When he came back up, Merlin was lying back again, fisting the blankets at his side. Obviously, it was going to be some time before the pain draught worked. His breath was expelled between gritted teeth.

Gaius still managed to sound calm as he turned to the king. "Bring that candle closer, please, sire?" Arthur put down the water and grabbed the candle, bringing it closer on the other side of Merlin. Gaius was gently forcing the lid back on one of Merlin's swollen eyes and the boy whimpered in pain. Arthur was shocked to see that his normally clear, blue eyes were blood red, whites and all. Gaius made a disapproving noise and quickly moved to the other eye. Merlin moaned. Bloody tears made their way down his pallid cheeks.

"That's enough, Gaius," Arthur snapped. Immediately, he thought better of it. "I mean, surely that's enough."

Gaius released Merlin's eye and used a soft cloth to wipe away the boy's tears. Merlin groaned and curled up on his side, shivering. "I do regret having to give him more pain, sire, but the medicine will help shortly." Gaius sighed. "The eyes are such a delicate part of the body. His do not look any better for the rest. Perhaps his body is busy repairing other areas."

"How bad?" Merlin whispered.

"The tissue is damaged, likely scratched or abraded in several places. But eyes do heal quickly."

"But…I can't see, Gaius." Merlin's voice broke painfully. "I can't see."

Arthur sat down suddenly, the grim tone of Merlin's voice instantly sapping his strength. Gaius's wide-eyed gaze sought out his own before returning to the patient. "Merlin, you must give your body time to heal. Don't compromise that with worry. When your eyes are healed, then you'll be able to see."

"Promise, Gaius?"

"I promise." Gaius brushed a hand through Merlin's hair gently.

Arthur felt a thunderous roar of rage sweep through him like a fire. He stood, forcing the feeling into submission. "Merlin, listen to Gaius. That's an order. None of your pessimism. Now, I'm going to go clean up, though it's highly unlikely George will be able to do a decent job getting the water hot enough."

Merlin choked out a laugh. "You're back to him again?"

"He is the most qualified, even if he is a mind-numbingly dull companion. Talking to him is about as interesting as watching Gwaine pick at his toenails. On second thought, it's not nearly that interesting. Get well, old friend. I will be back when I'm not quite so ripe. We have a lot to talk about."

Merlin had fixed his bruised face in Arthur's direction. "I look forward to it. Just don't use that girly soap Gwen bought you. I'd hate to have to send you back out because you're perfuming up my room."

Arthur smiled. "Now that you mention it, that might be what your room needs about now. I could send some down." Merlin gave a soft smile, but couldn't find the energy to respond. "I've got to get word to Gwaine that Merlin was awake for nearly…what was it? Two minutes."

"Yes, sire." Gaius was putting blankets back on Merlin, fussing in a familiar, heartwarming way. "I think that pain draught is kicking in now. Feeling better, Merlin?" Merlin let out a deep sigh and went limp. "Ah, it is working. He'll be sleeping for a while. I'll redress those eyes while he's out."

Arthur hesitated at the top of the steps. "Gaius, did you mean it when you said that his eyes would recover?"

"I did, sire. It will, however, likely take longer than his other injuries to heal."

"Oh, good. I'm sure he'll handle _that_ well." Arthur shook his head, smiling as he left the room, his heart lightened for one blessed moment. Merlin was awake and he was healing. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, as Kitty O pointed out, George technically can't be known by Arthur until the episode after this. Poor George. I have ripped him out of alignment and left him dangling in some AU stratosphere. But...I kind of need him to be there, so forgive me a little creative story engineering. Thanks.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks again to serendipity08 who is a fantastic beta and a great person as well! Here's the final installment of My Bond. I hope it answers all your questions and manages to end well. Thanks so much, guys, for your reviews. It's been so nice getting to know you!

* * *

><p>Gaius didn't see much of Arthur over the next few days. The king had many important things claiming his attention, of course, and Merlin did nothing worthy of much notice. He just healed slowly, woke occasionally and grew more and more frustrated. It was understandable. Gaius checked his wounds often and tried to keep Merlin's mind active with riddles or puzzles instead of fixating on the pain or his magical difficulties.<p>

It worked until late afternoon, when the boy awoke with a renewed fever and a severe ache in his shoulder. Gaius treated the wound for the beginnings of an infection. "This should do the trick, Merlin. Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah. Nothing at all," Merlin mumbled, gesturing feebly at his eyes. "Can't see. Can't do magic. Can't even get out of bed."

"You _can_ do magic, Merlin. You said so yourself. If you hadn't helped Arthur, then the king would be dead right now. You saved him, at great pain and risk to yourself."

"But I-I…I don't think I could do it again. Not now."

Gaius knew what he meant. Only sheer, agonizing desperation had forced Merlin's magic to come to his aid and only because Arthur was in mortal peril.

"Well, then it's a good thing we don't need it now. Stop moping and rest." Merlin huffed out a frustrated breath. He finally drifted off again at around sunset.

It was later that night, when checking Merlin's eyes, that Gaius saw something that stopped him cold. The bloody sheen covering the whites of Merlin's eyes had been fading and was nearly back to normal now. That, Gaius had been expecting. But the irises of Merlin's eyes were glowing a soft, molten gold. "Magic," Gaius muttered disapprovingly, "Why can't the boy ever do _anything_ like a normal person?" From now on, he'd have to make sure no one was around when he checked Merlin's eyes.

"Gaius?" Arthur's voice startled Gaius out of his thoughts. A few seconds later, the king clambered up the steps and into Merlin's room. "How are his eyes?" He stepped over to the bed, sparing only a glance at the healer. Gaius had Merlin's eyes well-covered by this point.

"Healing, sire," the old man said, trying to look innocent.

Arthur sat in the chair he'd sat in for hours, waiting. "Has he been awake at all?"

"He has, fitfully. Tomorrow I will begin lessening his pain draughts. We should see him staying awake more often then."

Arthur nodded, his face growing more somber as he looked down at his servant. "Tomorrow actually might not be a good day for that." The king cocked his head, looking up at Gaius with an exaggeratedly pensive air. "I wonder, Gaius, if you could answer a question for me."

"I will certainly try my best."

"Does Merlin have many visitors here, in his room?"

"What do you mean, sire?"

Arthur stood and moved over to the corner, where Gaius had hung some of Merlin's laundry up to dry. "Does he ever have friends here in his room or girls…or anybody?" Arthur gestured, trying to make the obvious question more obvious. "Anyone…uh…spending the night?"

Gaius frowned. "Why would he…?" Then raised his eyebrows. "Ohhhhh." A small smile broke free. "No, Merlin isn't one for entertaining the ladies. Goodness me. Imagine that."

"Well, and it's no wonder. Look around."

"Is there something wrong with Merlin's chamber, sire?"

"Of course not. No," the king said hastily, "it's perfectly fit for a servant. But…maybe not fit enough for _my_ servant. So _if_ Gwen and I were thinking of changing it, doing something…ridiculous and ostentatious…if it were to be contained here in his room, then it might not even get seen. Am I right?"

"Oh, certainly, sire. But it does make me wonder what you have in mind?"

"Nothing that should put you out too much, Gaius. You just keep going on about your work. Say nothing to Merlin and uh, ignore the knights." Arthur headed for the door.

"The knights, sire?"

"Yes," Arthur said, turning around with a cheeky grin. "The knights might be a bit underfoot here and there. But, you'll be kind to them for Merlin's sake, right, Gaius?"

"Most assuredly so."

"I'll return tomorrow. If Merlin wakes up, tell him to hold off a day on the whole 'seeing' thing. Then we'll give him something worth looking at." With this cryptic remark, Arthur grinned rather like a jester on black coffee and left with a bright laugh that made Gaius smile despite himself.

As it turned out, Arthur was right. The knights were underfoot a good bit of the next day. First thing in the morning, they made an enormous amount of racket at the bottom of the stairs. Gaius went out to investigate.

"Damn thing won't fit!" Gwaine was complaining. "This must be the narrowest staircase in the whole, bloody castle!"

"Would you just listen to me," Elyan said in a tone that indicated he was way past being patient, "If we just unhinge the top and flip it so that—"

"It won't come off," Percival growled, "I've already tried."

"Maybe you didn't try the right way—"

"Elyan, you're insulting Percy. Not a smart move," Gwaine pointed out.

"Just put it back. Arthur will have to pick another one. A smaller one," Leon concluded. The knights groaned. "Let's go. Pick it up." The noises faded with then as they went.

A few hours later, Gaius heard them again. This time, they made it all the way up the stairs and into the room with their heavy burden, setting it down with a loud thud. Gaius gaped. The chest of drawers there were carrying was only this side of massive, made of a dark, smooth oak.

"Where did you get that?" Gaius moved forward, his eyes taking in the excellent carving on each door.

"From the other side of the castle," Gwaine said in between breaths, "naturally."

"This," Elyan said proudly, "used to be in the royal chambers, but Gwen was given a new one by King Arthur. So, this one," he said, hitting it lightly on the side, "was free."

Leon stood up straight and heaved one more breath. "They had moved it to a guest chamber, but the king decided his servant could do better than that pine monstrosity in his chambers now."

"That monstrosity used to be mine," Gaius said acidly, then raised a hand to prevent Leon from stumbling for an apology. "I know very well what a horrid piece it is. Once it's replaced, you can burn it for all I care. Have a bonfire. Roast a pig."

"Get rid of it?" Gwaine said, looking apprehensively from Gaius to Leon.

"Well, you don't think his room is large enough for two, do you?" Gaius asked. The knights groaned. "In fact, you might do well to take that one out before you carry this one in. Be as quiet as possible, if you please. We don't want to wake Merlin."

The knights shot him various looks, from exasperated to venomous, but they mounted the stairs and went into Merlin's room as quietly as four knights can.

While they were gone, Gaius moved closer to the chest. He couldn't help but run his hands over the carved scrollwork on each door. It was delicate, and as fine as anything he'd seen before. There were four panels, two on each door, each one representing one season of the year. The tree in the center of each was carved to minute detail, budding and blossoming in one panel, leafy in another, losing its leaves in the third, and finally, barren in the last. Surrounding the tree was a beautifully rendered glade and distant hills. Merlin was certainly going to be impressed.

It was nearly lunch time when the new chest was installed by the door and the knights were headed down with the monstrous chest of drawers. It sounded to Gaius as if they dragged it for nearly the whole distance down, but then, it was no longer his business. He went back in to check on Merlin, half-wishing that the boy had been awake for the hilarity and industriousness on his behalf. However, since his eyes had turned golden, he hadn't woken at all. Gaius tried not to worry. Likely, his magic just needed to concentrate on healing.

The sun was low in the sky when the knights returned later, looking exhausted. This time, they carried a chest to put at the foot of Merlin's bed, also made of the same carved oak. The lid was covered in the delicate scrollwork and the autumnal tree with falling leaves. Percival carried a small oak table with a built-in bowl for washing. The carving on its rim depicted the blossoms from the tree on the chest of drawers.

"A luxury, indeed," Gaius said as he stood aside as the piece was carried in to Merlin's room where the boy still lay sleeping. Tired, Percival rammed the table into Gwaine's side as he tried to make room in the corner for it.

"Sorry," he said curtly. Gwaine just glared at him.

"Gaius? There's not enough room at the foot of his bed for this bloody thing," Gwaine gestured to the low chest. "Any suggestions?"

"The other corner, perhaps?" Gaius gestured. The knights groaned as they saw the pile of crates that had been left there from the days when this room had served merely as storage. "Those will have to be moved, I fear. I'm sorry my old bones can't be of more help to you."

The knights grudgingly went to work. Soon they had the crates out and the chest and table in the corner closest to Merlin's bed. They looked very nice together.

Gaius gave the knights a smile. "And am I to look forward to another piece of matching furniture?"

"Not tonight," Elyan said.

Percival grunted.

"We'll be back in the morning," Leon explained. "I just hope that bed is made to come apart."

"I'm surprised that Arthur didn't try for something more manageable," Gaius said as he headed back down the stairs.

Elyan followed, smiling. "Surprised? Arthur never does anything half-way, you know that, Gaius."

"I just hope Merlin wakes or it will be difficult to move him," Gaius said as Percival and Leon came down next.

Percival smiled. "I can handle him. After this, _he'll_ be easy."

"Good night, Gaius." He and Leon headed down stairs, each taking a crate.

Gwaine came down from Merlin's room looking sober. "You say he's healing, Gaius?"

"Indeed, he is. Better every hour."

"Good to hear. I guess bruises always look worse before they look better."

"That's the way of it."

"Well, we'll see you in the morning."

"I'm sure I'll hear you first."

Gwaine grinned as he and Elyan grabbed the last few crates and headed back down.

Gaius climbed the stairs and went into Merlin's room. The room vaguely smelled of sweat and felt warmer for all the effort the men had put into getting the heavy pieces of furniture in here. He opened the window a bit wider then turned to look at Merlin's tidier and improved room, smiling. Merlin didn't even own enough property to need that much storage space, between the large chest of drawers and the other, smaller chest, but what a grand gesture, an expansive gesture, indeed.

The next morning, the first project for the knights was the bed. From the argument down at the bottom of the stairs, Arthur had chosen a bed that was far too big for the stairway. Gaius winced at the language that made its way up the stairs before they gave up and went away. An hour later, when Gaius was feeding a finally conscious Merlin some rich broth sent up from the royal kitchens, another stirring came from the hallway.

"What's that?" Merlin asked groggily, passing a hand over his bandaged eyes. Gaius had not allowed him to try seeing yet. The golden glow had faded, but Merlin's usual blue irises were still shot through with an intense glow that did not look normal. Gaius was keeping those eyes covered until they looked completely normal. "Gaius? What's that noise?"

"Oh, the knights are up to some mischief. I think they'll be up to see you later."

"Okay, good," Merlin said as he yawned. "Ow. Gaius," he whined, "it hurts to yawn."

"So stop yawning and go back to sleep."

"But I just woke up." The stubborn set to Merlin's jaw was not nearly as effective with the pinched, pained look that had settled on his brow. The pain medicine had worked its way out his system and the waking had not been a pleasant one.

"And now you're just going back to sleep." Merlin wanted to argue, Gaius could tell, but he was simply too tired. He lied back on the pillows and, after a moment, turned on his side. Gaius felt Merlin's brow. That was one thing to be thankful for—his fever was finally gone. But even with that large step forward, going to a half draught of pain medicine hadn't dimmed Merlin's exhaustion a bit. The boy had at least two broken bones to mend—his ribs—as well as making up for blood loss and all the cuts and bruising that needed to heal. Also, Gaius suspected there to be a break in the bone over Merlin's right eye, where the swelling and bruising seemed worst. If they were lucky, and he truly hoped they were, it might only be a crack.

"Just rest, my boy. There will be plenty of time for you to be nosy later on," Gaius concluded. But Merlin wasn't listening. "Not unlike taking care of an infant," Gaius said fondly as he tucked the covers back around Merlin.

A few hours later, Gwaine stomped up the stairs and thrust a round, wrought iron shape at Gaius.

"What's this?"

"No idea. That girl, Yolande, gave it to me and said something about Merlin getting better."

"Really? That is most unusual. I don't think a girl has ever given Merlin a sconce before. Flowers, yes. Extra food, constantly. They always want to fatten him up. But, house wares…"

"Probably has something to do with the fact that we keep carrying furniture up and down stairs and all around the bloody castle trying to figure out what will fit through your door. Word's gotten out. It's not like we're quiet or anything."

"No. I do know that. Well, this will look nice on Merlin's wall. When he finally gets a look around, he won't even recognize his room."

"That's the general idea, Gaius. Might take us three weeks, but we'll get it right." Gwaine sighed and ran a grimy hand through his hair. "For one thing, Arthur won't let us do anything else until we get it done. Just imagine. Enemy armies attack, and we're too damn busy hauling furniture to fight. Oh, you, uh…might want to move out of the way. Delivery coming."He grinned.

"Ah. Very good." Gaius took his modest meal and moved over to the corner of the room. In half an hour, the knights had a very large wooden bed frame angling into the doorway. It didn't appear to have all the necessary parts, but Gaius knew better than to ask. The four knights heaved it through and gave a little cheer.

"Fourth time's the charm," Elyan said with a limp grin.

"Now we just have to get it through Merlin's door," Leon said speculatively. The four knights looked up.

"Aw, hell," Percival said, wiping at the sweat collecting over his brow. "I'm not taking it back down. I say, if it doesn't fit, it stays right here." The other knights quickly agreed.

And that was how Gaius got a new bed. The old cot was shoved under for patients and the bed went in the corner after a few racks had been moved out of the way. It seemed a trifle ostentatious, wider and longer than his cot, and decorated with carvings of Celtic design. But the mattress was far and away more comfortable than the straw ticking he had been using and he was thrilled. The knights, on their way out the door, were not.

"We'll be back," Elyan sighed.

This time, when they returned, it was without Percival. Rhys was manning the fourth corner. The story went that Gwaine had seen him training and called in a favor. When Rhys found out who the bed was for, he was eager to help. Now, at the final, most delicate part of the operation, he was streaming with sweat.

"Is Merlin still abed?" he asked Gaius.

Gaius, who was still admiring his new bed, stood up and straightened his robes. "Yes, he is. I was hesitant to move him unless absolutely necessary."

The knights exchanged glances. "It's absolutely necessary," Leon summed up. "Shall I get him?"

"I got him." Gwaine was already through the door before Leon finished the question. In under a minute, he appeared with Merlin cradled against his chest. The knight moved slowly down the stairs and over to the corner, laying him on Gaius's new bed. Merlin's head rolled on the pillow, and he mumbled something before returning to sleep. The knights all watched breathlessly.

"Nice," Rhys summed up. "So let's get moving."

It was easy work to get the old cot and mattress out of Merlin's room. The harder bit, by far, was getting the new bed frame up the stairs and through the door at the same time. Very wisely, Arthur had chosen a dark oak frame with thin spinnerets on the four corners that unscrewed to make it an easier fit. Gaius eyed the spinnerets lying in the corner. After a moment, he concluded they would likely be too high on the bed for Merlin to impale himself. One could only hope.

Finally, after a symphony of grunts and groans and with more than one smashed finger, the bed frame made it through. The knights celebrated quietly then returned to the lower chamber for the mattress and spinnerets.

Gaius came up to help see the bed completed. The dark oak spinnerets were put back in place where their carved vines caught the light gracefully, along with the scrollwork running down the length of the frame. Soft muslin sheets were spread over the soft, downy mattress then a thin but warm woolen blanket and a navy blue coverlet were spread over the top and tucked in tight. Gaius's eyes grew wet, remembering many nights when he was certain Merlin had suffered ill effects from the cold that always crept its way through the stone walls. The boy would finally stay warm.

"Oh. Nearly forgot." Gwaine grinned and disappeared downstairs for a moment. He returned with a blue tapestry that matched the coverlet, embroidered delicately with a white dove. Gaius was quite shocked to recognize it as the sigil of Ygraine. This, then, also came from the queen's old chambers.

"Am I to understand that Arthur wishes this to be hung in Merlin's room?"

"Oh yeah. His orders specifically. He said that Merlin would understand."

Gaius's one eyebrow stayed raised. Only the kin of Ygraine or Arthur would have been welcome to use that sigil in any way, much less sleep under it.

"So, when do you expect him to wake?" Gwaine looked like a child on Christmas morning.

"I imagine when you start pounding the daylights out of the wall."

"Ah, yes. We should do that now. Leon?"

Gwaine and the knights busied themselves finding a free war hammer and then using it to pound large iron nails into the walls. It only took a half an hour to get both tapestry and sconce on the wall, as well as hanging a rod over the window for a curtain that Elyan insisted was forthcoming.

"Be right back," Elyan said, taking off downstairs as though he hadn't just exhausted himself moving furniture. Leon sat on the stairs and rested. Gwaine fussed around Merlin's room, moving the small table and chest one way and then the other.

Then he cursed low under his breath. "What's he supposed to use to put his books on? We took all the crates out."

"On it," Rhys said, jumping to his feet. "Don't start without me."

"Youth is wasted on the young," Leon said as he and Gaius watched Rhys bolt through the door.

"I have often thought the same thing," Gaius said, smiling, "though I would have put you in that category as well."

Sir Leon smiled. "You know good and well I'm past my prime fighting years. The knights only keep me around because I'm a good luck charm. You know, come back to life once and they think you're something special."

Gaius suddenly remembered that he had remedies to make, including more draughts of Merlin's pain medicine. For the next hour, he tried to get work done while the knights moved here and there, trying to help and usually ending up in the way. At last, Elyan, Rhys and the king appeared at the door. Rhys came in first, carrying a small, dark oak table with no decorations at all. "All we could find," he said, shrugging, "Should work for books, though."

"Looks perfect to me," Gwaine said, taking it from him and disappearing up into Merlin's room.

"Curtain," Elyan said, raising a long, blue curtain the same shade as the tapestry already hanging in Merlin's room, "Won't take but just a second."

"I brought a rack," Arthur said unnecessarily as he entered the room. He set the piece of furniture on the floor, looking at it critically. "I know Merlin doesn't have spears or swords, but he's got to have something to stick in there, right?"

Gaius wisely agreed. "I'm sure he'll know just the thing."

"That's what I thought," Arthur said, giving a wide grin and hefting the rack up on one shoulder as he headed for the room. "Coming through," he called ahead. There was a quick conversation, the sounds of sliding furniture and then King Arthur reappeared.

"Well, by God, I call that an improvement." Arthur grinned ear to ear. "Where is he?"

"On Gaius's new bed," Leon said pointedly, "there."

"Ah." Arthur strode over to the bed then paused. "Wasn't this…"

"Yes, sire. And now it's Gaius's. He hasn't had a new bed…ever. Right, Gaius?"

"You are correct," Gaius admitted. "This is a vast improvement, my lord, and I am very grateful."

"Fine, good." Arthur shrugged off the news, approving the gift of the bed to Gaius simultaneously as he bent over Merlin. "Still with the bandages, eh?" He straightened up. "Gaius, is there any way you could let him try his eyes out now? I've only got a short while before the council hunts me down again. You know."

"Certainly, my lord. If we can get him to wake up."

"He didn't even hear all that pounding earlier," Gwaine said, shaking his head.

"If you wouldn't mind stepping back, your majesty."

"Of course." Arthur moved out of the way.

Gaius gently began to speak to Merlin. When that didn't rouse the boy, he shook him gently by his good shoulder. This time, Merlin stirred. "What is it, Gaius?"

"Wake up, sleepyhead. We've got something to show you."

Merlin turned his head. "Arthur?"

"Merlin, I'm going to take the bandages off," Gaius said gently. "Keep your eyes closed until I give you the word. Gwaine, close the window if you please. Leon, light a few candles nearby, if you wouldn't mind. Elyan, would you do the same in Merlin's room?"

"I'm not in my room, am I? Whose bed is this?" Merlin ran his hands over the coverlet, seeming to enjoy the feel.

"It's my new bed, Merlin. What do you think of it? The knights brought it for me."

"Oh, it's wonderful," Merlin said with feeling, "definitely better than that old cot. You might have trouble kicking me out of it when I'm well." He smiled, a ghost of his normal grin, but it was heartening nonetheless.

"The bandages are off. I want you to take it slowly. Open your eyes."

Merlin opened his eyes a crack and sucked in a breath, turning his head and angling away from the candlelight, gripping the bedclothes. "It's so bright."

"That's a good sign. Your eyes must have time to adjust."

"That's it, Merlin," Gwaine added. "Give it time."

"Why don't you sit up?" Arthur asked, stepping over to the bed. He placed one hand behind Merlin's back and helped raise him up. Gaius got Merlin's legs untangled from the covers and soon Merlin found that he had both feet on the floor. Breath unsteady, he kept his head down. "It's better now. Not hurting so much." He swiped away tears. "And I'm not crying, you prat," he said in Arthur's direction.

"Even I realized that, Merlin." Arthur knelt beside him. "So…can you see?" The king's casual tone faltered on the last words.

"I think…I think…yep, your boots definitely need cleaning," Merlin said firmly, smiling a bit.

"You can see them?" Gaius asked, "not just shapes, but details?"  
>"Yes," Merlin said, raising his face a bit, beaming his joy, "I can."<p>

"That's good to hear."Arthur, relieved, reached up and ruffled Merlin's hair.

Gwaine whooped and ran over to pound Merlin on the back.

"Ow!"

"Sorry! But that's great news! Great! Now. Get up because we have something to show you," Gwaine said, helping a very confused Merlin to his feet.

"Actually, _I_ have something to show you," Arthur said drily, "though the knights here did help a bit." The knights protested loudly. "Okay, all right. They helped a bit more than a bit."

Gaius stopped Merlin with a gentle hand. "Are you sure you're feeling up to it, Merlin?"

"I'm fine. Lead on." He smiled as he leaned on Gwaine.

"Up the stairs, then," Arthur bounded up and went through the door. Merlin halted, puzzled.

"You want me to go back to my room? But I'm better."

"Yes, I know it," Arthur practically sang. "That's why we want you up here."

Merlin huffed out a frustrated breath and forced his shaking legs to attempt the stairs.

"You got it. That's it," Gwaine encouraged softly, "almost there."

Gwaine's tone helped calm Merlin down and he reached the top of the stairs with a much better attitude. It didn't matter where they wanted to stick him while he recovered; the fact was, he could _see_ and even seeing his old, cramped room would be heavenly after—

Merlin froze in the doorway, trying to ignore the goofy grin on Arthur's face and focus on what was around him. "This…this isn't my room any more?" He frowned at Arthur. "You're kicking me out?"

"What? No, no, of course not, you idiot," Arthur said, still grinning, "this is your new stuff! We got rid of the old and put in some much, much better things. To be quite honest, while I was waiting for you to wake up, I got tired of staring at these walls and all your hideous furniture and decided to do something about it. And Gwen was only too glad to help…"

By this point in the monologue, Merlin had let go of Gwaine and moved over to the window, where a set of blue, embroidered curtains hung all the way to the floor. He touched the fabric gently, charmed by its satin sheen. Queen Gwen wouldn't be out of place in this room. Turning, Merlin found the matching tapestry on the wall with a dove sigil resting in the center that he recognized very well. Feeling an exquisite ache in his chest, he looked over to find that Arthur had halted and was watching him carefully. Merlin smiled, not quite sure how to say it but figuring that Arthur would know how much it meant to him. Arthur nodded once, then turned away, going off again about how much trouble it had been to find the right furniture, etc., etc.

Merlin trailed a hand over the smooth surface of the wash table, wishing the water were already there to use. A luxury he'd never even thought to own. The chest was beautiful, even larger than the one at the foot of Arthur's bed. It was probably completely empty. The thought made Merlin smile. And then he came to the bed. His smile abruptly fled. Tall, majestic and surely fit for a king, or at least a prince, the bed was ludicrously sumptuous for a servant.

"Arthur," he began in a low tone.  
>"I don't want to hear it."<p>

"But Arthur—"

"No, I refuse to listen to the many reasons why this bed is too much for the likes of you. I know it is and I still want you to have it. I'm king, so I win." Arthur grinned at him. Merlin just shook his head and turned back to study the carving on the spinnerets. There was no way he could sleep in this. It was ridiculous. Why had Arthur done it? It was just too much…

There was suddenly an exodus of bodies and then Arthur was there beside him. The king took a few deep breaths then placed one hand on Merlin's good shoulder. "Merlin, I…I don't even know how to put into words how sorry I am for what happened to you. The fault lies with me—"

"No," Merlin said, turning to look at Arthur and finding deep pain in his eyes.

"Yes, it does, Merlin. I am king and my decisions have consequences. My bad decision almost cost you your life and only slightly less worse, your sight. Queen Annis targeted you merely because you were my servant and because I…cared about you." Arthur pulled away at this, looking supremely uncomfortable. "And then I fought and then I saw what they had done to you and we nearly went to war again." He stood a moment, staring off at the window. Merlin knew better than to say anything. "But we didn't. I couldn't. All I could do, Merlin, was sit and watch you struggle to recover, and pray that you would be strong enough to pull through." He finally looked back at his servant. "And you did. So this…all of this, is my way of saying, 'welcome home.' And…'well done.'"

Merlin's eyes went watery and he smiled a quivering smile that was difficult to hold for some reason. He couldn't speak. Instead, he sat on the bed, awed by the way the mattress gave beneath him and the way the coverlet felt cool and soft at the same time. Words were gathering up in his head, like water will in a stream bed when its way is blocked. But for the life of him, he couldn't seem to protest any more. All he wanted to do was lie on his new bed and ruminate on the words Arthur had just said. _Well done._

"Do you want me to get Gaius?" Arthur asked quietly.

"Not just yet."

"Did you see the chest of drawers over there?"

"Is that what that enormous thing is? I'm supposed to have enough clothes to fill that thing up?"

"Well…I guess so. But mostly, you're just supposed to look at it and remember how superior you are to other servants."

"I am?"

"Of course you are. The king and queen just redecorated your room personally." The knights made noises at the door. "Okay, right. And the king's knights helped."

The four of them crowded through the door.

"Percival helped, too," Elyan put in.

Merlin smiled. "I don't think just saying thank you is quite enough in this instance, but I'll say it, anyway. Thank you all. Very much." There was a lot of beaming from the knights and some more from Arthur and it was all very blinding and full of quiet healing for Merlin's heart. All too soon, the king left reluctantly to go back to council and the knights back to shower and eat.

Then it was just Gaius and Merlin. Outside, the day had faded and shadows crept into the room, chased away by candlelight from his new sconce. Merlin was beginning to feel the effects of taking his last pain draught of the day.

"So what do you think of my new room?"

Gaius paused, and Merlin braced himself for a thorough answer to his rather flippant question. "At first glance, it is pure excess. Be sure that I mentioned several times to Arthur that you don't have enough belongings to fill even a third of that chest, not to mention the chest of drawers as well." Gaius shook his head. Then his gaze returned to Merlin and softened. "But knowing the king as I do, and knowing all the sacrifices you have made for him and the ways you protect and serve him daily, in reality, this is but a paltry reward."

"Gaius, I—"

"No, no more words from you. I already know what you're going to say so you don't need to say it." Gaius stood, smiling. "Even if this gift wasn't richly deserved, you would still be forced to keep it because he is the king and he's determined to see you comfortable and well-rewarded for your loyalty. And that, my dear boy, is a grand thing, indeed."

Merlin grew still, thinking on those words. He let Gaius go with a soft smile. How was it possible that out of one of the worst experiences of his life, so much good had come? He gazed around his room, refusing to revisit the frightening memories of that long night and day, focusing instead on what was around him. Despite what Arthur and Gaius had said, he still felt undeserving and slightly out of place. But the beauty of the gifts spoke to him in a way he couldn't deny. The dove caught his eye and he lay still, contemplating it until sleep came and claimed him once again.

The room slowly darkened as candle after candle burned down to the wick. Merlin, cocooned warmly in his new bed, slept, dreaming of peace, a lovely brown-haired girl with his name on her lips and a shining sword that shone like hope itself even in the darkest night.


End file.
